Don't Let Go
by May Contain Nuts
Summary: Of all the barriers between him and her, it was a door that broke their safety net. [GSR. M for adult themes. First fanfic...R&R?]
1. What men can do

**Title:** Don't Let Go

**Rating:** M for adult themes, violence etc

**Author:** Me (Moccachino Girl.)

**Disclaimer: **No I do not own CSI or any of the characters with it, unfortunately they belong to CBS. Hey guys it's my birthday in 28 days… okay fine maybe not.

**Notes:** This is my first (uploaded) fan fiction so I wouldn't set high hopes. But I hope you enjoy it anyhow. Bien lis, mes amis! (sorry if I got that wrong!)

…yes, w.p. is damn fine…kind of.

* * *

_**Prologue**_

It all happened too fast to comprehend. Sara was standing in the nurse's station, studying the photo of the little boy, confiscated by Nurse Mckay in the group therapy session. Grissom left to find the keys for the locked cabinet draw. Then she heard Adam Trent's voice behind her.

Time skipped. _When did I end up in his grasp? _Her mind reeled, screaming panic along her nerves tingling like live wires. There was something sharp against her neck… _Oh god. I'm going to become one of his…_

He slammed her against the wall, the impact firing bullets of pain down her spine, but Sara couldn't scream. Her throat constricted, and when she opened her mouth, nothing came out. The noise caught, muffled in her throat as she choked to breathe. He had his hands on her jeans. One hand had shoved them down, taking her underwear with them, and a poorly sewn rivet scraped down the side of her hip leaving a deep cut. The other held her wrists above her head. Sara kicked, but the effort was futile. She felt his cold hands on her and she shuddered.

She closed her eyes as raw tears burned down her cheeks and he painfully scraped his fingernails on sensitive skin. A blow to the head and her knees gave way, he moved her to the floor, his weight on her fragile body suffocating. His hands roughly kneaded her chest and Sara opened her mouth to cry out but no sound left her throat. He beat her and she lay like a ragdoll, blows raining down on her abdomen and her face. She couldn't fight anymore.

And then Sara was on the ceiling. At least, she felt like she was. She looked down in horror as Adam Trent forced himself into her, his palms on her collarbones holding him up. Sara could still feel the cold of the linoleum floor seeping into her bones. She could still feel the burning and the agony as he thrust himself inside her, brutally, painfully. He held her down and ground her into the floor. Her top was ripped, her jeans were down, her face was bloody and her body, bruised. But she felt like she was floating above it all, watching the story unfold like a sick horror movie - except she was the main actress.

She saw her head roll to the right to the window of the nurses station, and behind the wired glass, there was Grissom. He was pounding on the glass with his gloved hands, yelling something, but she couldn't hear him. The sound was strangely muffled. Her gaze flickered from Adam and her on the floor, Adam raping her violently, and then to the window where Grissom pounded the glass and yelled but was powerless to save her. _Where are the keys! _She could see the glass reverberating with the force of his fists hitting it, his face wild…angry. _Furious._

Then a gunshot. The door handle flew to the floor with a clunk as the wood splintered and it swung open, Grissom and several uniformed officers spilled into the room. The noise was deafening as voices rose the roof and vibrated through the floor.

Adam was being pulled off her, restrained by a couple of the uniforms. For the first time since the start of the ordeal Sara let out a sound, a small whimper. Grissom knelt beside her with a blanket, wrapping it around her lower body tightly - he was speaking to her but she could hardly hear above all the noise.

"Sara?" The gentle voice was hard to make out. He looked up. "Has somebody called the paramedics! Call 911!" Grissom bellowed, his face tinged red, his eyes wild. But Sara looked up at him she could see the fear in them, as he looked back down at her. Gil scooped her upper body into his strong arms, holding her close to him, maybe a little painfully. She struggled to breathe, her ribs ached, her whole body shook uncontrollably. "Sara? Stay with me, please Sara…"

Her gaze moved down to the blanket, a white hospital issue, which was now stained with blood. There was blood on the floor, Sara's eyes followed it, wide and afraid.

"Honey don't look at that…" Gil put his hand on the side of her face and gently pulled it back to look at him. "Don't look at it…I've got you…"

Something about his voice bothered her, it was soft…compassionate. _Grissom doesn't care. He just pretends to. But it's the closest you'll ever get._

"Please… don't let go." Sara rasped as she clung onto his forensics jacket, although it hurt her bruised hands, and she was losing strength altogether.

"No…no…Sara I won't I promise…I've got you…" He cradled her body, noting the sweat gathering on her clammy forehead, her hair matted down. Grissom knew she was fading out of conciousness, pain was enough to do that. He removed a glove and combed her hair from her face with his fingers. His palm was warm on her cold, clammy skin.

She looked up into his face once more as the room swam around her. He was crying. Well, no, strictly he wasn't…his face was the same but his eyes spilled tears as he cried out her name, but she could only see him mouth 'Sara' over and over….or maybe it was just once…before the darkness came and consumed her.

* * *

Okay there is the Prologue! Should I go on? Please read and review but be gentle I know this is dark but hopefully it will get better.

This is for all those awesome authors, hazelmom, annieb, Jayke Manners, Miss Jazz, Burntsugrr…you guys rock…and all the other ones I forgot to mention (sorry you guys). (Check out their stories they are amazing)

Keep writing! xx


	2. The Hospital

Grissom had never hated waiting. It was a pain, yes, but one he could usually bear. His job was about waiting. For answers. For evidence.

But that night as he sat in the hard plastic hallway seats of the hospital, waiting for the doctors to finish examining Sara, rage slowed time. The world was void of anyone but he and Adam Trent. Grissom had never had the urge to commit murder but there he was, wishing for an interrogation room and a gun, unaware of Catherine Willows approaching him. _Not a gun, _he corrected himself. _Too quick. _

"Hey." Her voice cut through his reverie and he started, and then turned to look at her.

Catherine held out a fresh styrofoam cup of coffee and he took it, a tired but acknowledging look passing over his face before again returning to a passive wall of veiled emotion. "You look like shit." She stated as he gulped down the black coffee in one go. He'd been in that hallway at least four hours.

"I feel it." Grissom admitted, crushing the empty cup in his hand. Catherine observed her old friend and her heart ached for him. Everyone knew he'd never admit his feelings for Sara, and everyone knew they were there. They went way back. Back even before he took Catherine into the lab.

"Gil…" She began, but was stopped by a young Asian woman in a white lab coat walking up to them from the doorway to Sara's room.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Yan. Mr…" She glanced at her clipboard. "Mr Grissom?"

Gil nodded and swallowed. "She okay?"

Dr. Yan's smiling response was wistful at best. "Yes, Ms. Sidle is stable. She sustained…" Again she consulted the metal clipboard. Grissom fidgetted. "Two cracked ribs…a mild concussion…bruised collarbone…heavy epidermal bruising. There was a cut on her hip that needed five stitches." The doctor dropped the clipboard to her side and regarded them both. "You may come see her now, and I can talk you through the rest of it."

Grissom didn't trust his legs but they complied in standing, his knees threatening to buckle. Catherine and he exchanged glances, unsure. "Gil…I don't think Sara would want me in there. Her and I-" He nodded, understanding - Sara and Catherine had only recently come to a head after the Melton case. "You'll be okay?" She regarded his face, drawn, resigned. Again, Grissom merely nodded, too tired to speak. Catherine paused before hugging him gently and then she was gone, and he was alone with Doctor Yan and one of his worst nightmares waiting for him in the doorway opposite.

* * *

The darkness was all consuming and warm, like a cocoon. Sara was lying wrapped in that cocoon of black, and she felt safe. She was hovering between unconciousness and subconciousness, she knew - her memories and thoughts were separated from her and all she could feel was this blissful nothingness. But there were two voices, they began to permeate the silence, almost inaudibly at first and then became louder. She could hear snippets but comprehend much less of what she heard.

_"There was some deep scratching sustained…uteral haemorraghing…stitches…may be painful for a couple of weeks…administered sedative…wake up soon. Stay…few days…observation."_

The other voice came in, deeper. _"… no permanent damage?"_

_"Physically she'll be fine…mentally…another story…numbers of counsellours…need a chaperone…few weeks…somewhere safe…"_

It was so frustrating, Sara could hear the words but her brain refused to cooperate and decipher them. Her eyes were sore but she fought to open them a tiny bit. The light flooded in painfully and she snapped them closed again.

_"She's wheezing…" _

_"That's normal…ribs….badly damaged. I'll be…if you need…." _

_"Thank you…"_

Who was the male voice? Sara felt her brain slowly begin to whirr into motion. She knew who she wanted it to be. All those nights she'd cried herself to sleep for fear, for anguish, for memories best forgotten, for hurt she'd known exactly whom she needed there. But never had he appeared at her side. He didn't care. She wasn't "worth the risk".

Sara could feel a rough thumb on her cheek. She would've winced if she'd been copus mentus enough, as the thumb brushed a blossoming bruise on her cheek bone. A small wave of pain penetrated her darkness. But the hand was warm, maybe comforting.

"_God…Sara…" _That was _his voice! _Her mind screamed at her. He _was _there. But why? _"I have so many unanswered whys."_

_Wait a minute, _She thought. _I've heard that before. _Sara connected. Grissom was right there beside her. Maybe he did care. _Hmph don't get your hopes up, Sidle. _The thumb was still there.

Then the pain struck. A dull ache first, crawling up her nerves like a poison, and then fully-fledged agony. Her lower half felt like it were on fire, and she was more disorientated, trying to ride the wave of pain that had hit her. It subsided. _They've given me painkillers._

"I am so sorry." Grissom's voice was less distant now, but still held a soft compassion, providing an insulation in its own to the pain riddling Sara's body. _What is he sorry for? _And then the memories assaulted the blissful ignorance of her subconcious mind. Images of Adam Trent violating her passed through her brain at lightspeed, it came back to her and hit her full force. The memories were all too painful, and she was reliving them.

"Sara?"

The whisper was right beside her ear. _No, no! Don't wake up! _The darkness was too warm and comforting to leave, now that she knew what was waiting for her on the lighter side of the abyss, but then her universe of black evaporated. Harsh white light spilled into her eyes and as they adjusted, formed the silhouette and then the image of Gil Grissom gazing down at her.

* * *

When Sara's eyes opened, Gil knew he had to choke down the tears that had been threatening to fall. He had prepared himself for the worst, before Dr. Yan had lead him to her bedside. But nothing could have prepared himself for the sight he saw there. 

She lay in a white hospital gown on the plastic matressed bed, and in that moment he had never seen her look so fragile, not in her entire life. Her skin was pale, white, all except for the bruises. The bruises would forever brand their mark on his memory.

Her face in her subconciousness was relaxed, but her lip was split and her left cheek swollen and purple. Her eyes were dry - it shocked him when he remembered she had not cried. All but those four words she had said on the floor in the nurses station, she had not made a sound throughout the entire ordeal. _God, her face, _He thought. The features he had gazed at when she thought he wasn't looking. _The lips I imagined being mine one day…stop it, Gil! Now isn't the time._

And here his Sara lay looking up at him, her eyes a depth of anguish. It scared him how raw they looked.

"Sara…" Grissom said, his voice almost a whisper. He reached his hand out to touch her face again, but she inched it away. There was fear in her eyes. _She's afraid of me._

Sara's eyes filled with unshed tears and she rolled onto her side away from him, curling up into a ball. Seeing the gooseflesh on her bare arms he picked up a folded blanket from the side table and tucked her into it, careful not to touch her body as he did so. There was something about touch she was going to have to get used to again.

"I'm okay." She said, but her voice betrayed her words for a lie. Grissom sat in the chair beside the bed, and merely nodded. "How long am I in here?"

"A few days." Gil replied, clasping his hands and gazing at them. "Nick, Greg and Warrick want to visit tonight if you are comfortable with that, Greg went to your apartment to get you some clothes."

Sara gave a slight nod and then closed her eyes, the memories still going round her mind's eye. Images of Adam Trent and her, lying dishevelled on the lino floor. Images of Grissom pounding on the window.

Grissom sighed, and gently reached out his hand to pick up Sara's, which hung halfway over the side of the bed. She didn't stop him as he took it in his own, and instead she squeezed his hand before falling into a troubled sleep.

* * *

_He was violating her. The dark pressed in on Sara's body as her perpertrator thrust himself inside her repeatedly, sending waves of agony up her spine. His hands were everywhere, hungry in their search for flesh, kneading her skin like leather. Pinching, hurting, pressing. Hitting. His left hand held her wrists together above her head, so tight she could feel her hands going numb, and his disgusting mouth was on her breasts, biting them. He collapsed onto her, spent -his breathingwas shallow. His sweat mingled with her blood. "Did you like it, bitch?" Then his face came closer to hers, and her breathing stopped._

_The face didn't belong to Adam Trent. It was Gil Grissom._

Sara's eyes snapped open as she screamed, her body flat on the bed, two arms holding her down. She fought to get free of the hands on her shoulders, and it hurt. She was still screaming. "Sara!" A dim bedside light came on, illuminating her restrainer. Grissom had obviously still been seated in the chair beside the bed, but now he leaned into her, holding her down. "Shh…"

It took what seemed to be an age for Sara to breathe normally again. She shook her head, physically trying to rid herself of the cruel image of the face, the same face that stared down at her a sea of concern and compassion, bearing down at her from above. No no no…not Grissom…She desperately tried to tell herself. But still, the image tainted him in a way she couldn't understand. She couldn't look at him.

"Here…" Gil reached for a jug of water and a cup on the side table and filled it. Sara hadn't realised how dry her mouth was until then. He helped her to sit up, slowly, and then lifted the cup to her lips and she drank steadily.

"Thanks." She said in a small voice, smoothing the blankets, fidgetting, avoiding his eyes yet unable to hide from his gaze. Why does he look at me with such care? Why hasn't he gone home?

Grissom placed the cup on the bedside table. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Sara decided to play dumb.

"The nightmare you just had. Or…"

"Don't say it." She stopped him. "No, I don't."

"Okay." Gil knew he wouldn't press her then, but later. He refused to let her sweep this one under the proverbial rug, just like all the rest of her problems, but his intuition told him to hold back.

They were sitting in silence, both contemplating small talk and safe conversation to rescue them from painful grounds, when Nick, Warrick and Greg arrived.

"Hey girl," Warrick greeted Sara, hesitating before kissing her on the forehead. Nick gave her a small hug and Greg smiled at her sheepishly, hanging about in the background, looking to his sneakered feet. Warrick regarded Grissom warily, and nodded for him to move to the side to talk with him.

"Griss you should go home. You look like the walking dead."

Gil paused, considering defiance. But he knew Warrick was right. He nodded, but glanced back to the hospital bed where Nick had sat down and started chatting light-heartedly with Sara, whom looked relieved that somebody could lift the atmosphere from that of a funeral march. "She'll be fine. We'll take good care of her, and in the morning you can resume your post as bedside vigil." Warrick added.

Grissom gave him a look, then went back to pick up his coat and turned to leave -Sara watched him, worry spreading over her face. "Grissom." She whispered, her voice hoarse.

"I'll be back in a few hours, Sara. I promise." And with that, he left.

Warrick picked up a chair and sat down, picking up Sara's hand, seeing her expression still distraught. Nick spoke up. "Sar, he'll be here before we leave. He's definitely going to keep his promise. You should've seen him when the EMTs arrived to pick you up…he was holding onto you like his life depended on it - almost gave the poor suckers a few broken bones when they tried to separate you two. He had you as long as he could, I think the thought of losing you scared him shitless…"

Sara listened, her gaze focussed on her hands in her lap, and let her friends comfort her.

* * *

Thanks so much for the reviews! that goes to **brainfear** (okay, i'm posting, i'm posting! but to hunt me down methinks you need a trans-atlantic flight ticket... lol) **Evita aka Oracle** (thanks! I'm practising descriptive writing for my English GCSE in two weeks...v.encouraging) **Unspoken Loves, saskia2** (hope the Uteral Haemorrhaging bit answers your question), **woody8330 **(well here it is...), **BlueButterflyCSI** (cool name!please pleasepost your fic once you've written it...I'd love to read it!), **Elfgrins **(I love the word Awesome, it is so antipodean...thank you!), **Emmithar** (you may yet become a GSR convert! lol the more the merrier ;) ), **love2readfanfic** (my brain juices are running low because of all thisstudy - i might take you up on the offer!), **Almeida's-Angel24** (thank you so much!), **trainerker, silence89 **(lol well it's my first PUBLISHED...i've been writing fanfic for several years...you don't want to see my first ones!) and **paulinecampbelljones**...you guys are fantabulously encouraging! Hope you all liked this chapter!

Sorry for the delay it's been hell for coursework, I've got my official French Speaking Exam on Monday! arrrgh! so look out for an update Monday night (that is if our internet connect isn't being belligerent, as per usual) because I'll have more time on my hands to fill with writing the next chapter. I have updated chapter 1 too - was kind of hurried. Keep writing, happy reading! xxxx


	3. You can't wash away memories

Grissom was driving Sara home. _Correction, I'm driving her to _my _home. _In any normal circumstance he would be thrilled at the idea. But this wasn't any normal circumstance, and he certainly wasn't thrilled at her state of mind right now.

Sara stared absent mindedly out of the window and it took a lot of gripping the steering wheel of the Denali to stop him from reaching over to take her hand in his. This was all becoming too real for Sara, he knew, and the only way she would feel she could cope with it would be to shut down to the world. Which she was already in the process of doing. He wasn't going to have any of it – if it took a lassoe and a herd of wild horses than so be it, Grissom would pull Sara out of the cruel ditch she had been forced so unceremoniously into and he would save her from herself.

But for now, he had no strategy as to how to execute his plan, and therefore could only feel his heart break and he watched her reclude from the people who loved her and cared about her. Gil was first on that list.

What she did next surprised him no end. Grissom pulled up to his apartment, turned the keys in the ignition and sat back, unbuckling his seat belt, when Sara unbuckled her own and in a split second had leant across to his own seat, straddled him and fixed her mouth on his. Alarms began in his head. _What the hell is happening? _It took him quite a few moments to realise she was kissing him, deep and hard, and he wasn't kissing back. He knew what was happening, and whilst his body pleaded with him to give in and let his desires run their true course, he felt his hands betray him. Gently he placed his hands on Sara's shoulders and pushed her back, and when he did both their breathing was shallow. There were tears in Sara's eyes.

"Sara…what…?"

Several emotions played over her beautiful features. Confusion, humiliation, despair, frustration. "Isn't that what you've always wanted? You don't want me for _me, _you just want my BODY like fucking Lady Heather! So here, Griss, have it!" Sara tore at her shirt, picked up his hand and shoved it inside, clamping it hard against her breast. "Adam Trent got EXACTLY what _he_ wanted so why can't you! It's what you want, isn't it!" He grabbed her wrists.

"No!" Grissom stopped her. "No, Sara…no." He swallowed, almost distrusting himself to speak for he felt more like crying. "Not like this. I want _you _in your _own time. _Adam Trent got what he wanted at your expense. I would _never _do that, you hear?"

Sara sat back at his raised voice, still breathing shallowly. His hand was still in contact with the tender skin on her abdomen. Looking down, she saw peeks of bruises in the torn opening in her shirt. A sob rose from her throat and wracked her body, and Grissom quickly withdrew his hand and enveloped her in a warm embrace. "God, Sara…I-…I love you enough not to do that to you." He breathed into her hair. "You have got to trust me on that." Sara listened and cried for feeling so lost and seeing what was happening to her.

After a while her breathing calmed and the tears began to dry, and so Grissom opened the car door and carried her into his apartment, laying her down on the sofa and leaving to go and make a cup of coffee for both of them.

Five minutes later he sat on an armchair facing the couch, and placed to mugs of black coffee on coasters on the coffee table separating them. Sara sat up to pick up the coffee but avoided eye contact.

"Sara."

Grissom's voice was gentle, and Sara wanted so badly to just lie on his chest and hear that voice saying her name over and over, to get lost in the soft and the kind and the compassion because that was the only place she could ever feel safe again, she knew.

"Sara." The voice was firm but kind. "You know what I'm going to say." His hands made an apologetic shrug-like gesture. She sighed.

"You want me to talk about what happened." Sara's voice was resigned and tired, but he could tell it was merely a flat statement. Grissom nodded, and took a sip of his coffee. "I-…I can't."

"Why not?" Gil searched her downturned face, trying to decipher what was written on it in so much indecipherable code that was the wall Sara had always worn, protecting her from vulnerability, always. What could he see there? Remorse? Anger? Hate? Confusion? And then he saw it. Plain and clear on her cheeks that were burning up. _Shame._

_Dear god, _He thought. _Why is she ashamed? How can she be ashamed? This wasn't her _fault_…_"I just can't." Was the only answer she gave. Her hands were shaking, and she placed the mug on the table.

Grissom stood, coffee forgotten, and sat next to her on the sofa. Slowly he took both of her hands in his own to calm the shaking, because it broke his heart seeing them do so, and he sighed. "Sara please don't go down the road of self-blame. You did nothing wrong."

"No, Grissom, you're wrong. I didn't do nothing wrong. I did _nothing._"

"He had a weapon! He was stronger than you and bigger than you. Trying to do anything would have gotten you killed. Did you want that to happen?"

Sara's voice was almost inaudible but Grissom heard it loud and clear in the silence of his living area. "Yes."

"No. No you don't Sara."

For the first time since inside the SUV she looked in his eyes, and the honesty of her words shone through the empty gaze she now possessed. Unsure of what to say, unsure of whether his voice would permit him to say it, he kept his gaze on her and felt his heart break for the umpteenth time since this all began. Sara looked about her, uneasy.

"I…uh, I need a bath or a-a-a shower or _something_." She spoke quietly, her voice pleading as she rubbed her wrists fervently.

Grissom broke his gaze and nodded, looking into his coffee and then standing. "It's just down here, down the hallway. I'll get some…some towels."

The coffee went cold, forgotten on the coffee table.

* * *

Gil was beginning to worry. Sara had been in the bath 17 minutes. He had timed it, pacing outside the door. _Five more minutes and I'm going in there._But each time he made to enter the bathroom, hestopped, and rationalized – Sara definitely wouldn't appreciate being barged in on. But he also knew the ritualistic cleansing rape victims subjected themselves to after an assualt, and she couldn't afford to worry her stitches. _Stitches. God, he roughed her up, the bastard._

Grissom had decided that running a bath for her would be more gentle on her wounds than pressure from the shower, and he had also decided that without the sound of running water hitting the tiles, he'd be able to hear what was going on better inside the bathroom. He didn't want to take any chances with damaging her health be it self-inflicted or accidental. _No, Sara would never hurt herself. Would she?_

A sob permeated the oak door to his bathroom and immediately Grissom stopped pacing, his hearing alert. "Sara?" Another, quieter, but just as audible.

Gil opened the door and he felt his heart stop. Sara was hugging her knees in the tub, full of blood red liquid. "Sara!"

Sara was crying, her body wracking with sobs, her hands covering her face. Grissom ran to the tub and rolled up his sleeves, reaching into the liquid and pulling out the plug. "Sara, god, don't look at it. It's okay, you're okay." Frantically he tried to tell himself the same thing. _Her stitches must have leaked. That's okay. The blood must have just mixed well with the water. That's also okay. _The rational side of his brain tried to tell him. _What if she's haemorrhaging again? What am I meant to do!_

He reached over to her, put his arms under her shoulders and gently hoisted her up out of the tub, grabbing a white towel from the railing on the way. Grissom wrapped her in it to keep her warm and sat her on the side of the bath, turning the taps back on to wash away the remnants of the bloody water. Suddenly the thought of Sara's blood running down his drains sickened him. _Just like Debbie Marlin._

"Griss-" Sara's voice was hurried and scared, and her face had gone pale. "Grissom…"

"Honey what is it?" He said, instantly looking up into her face noting the fear in her voice.

"I'm still bleeding!" Her voice was tiny and high pitched. "Why am I bleeding?"

Gil stood and wrung his hands. "Is it…" He made a wide gesture to her bottom half and Sara swallowed and nodded. He tried to force the analytical side of his brain to whirr into action but all he could hear was his emotions screaming blue murder at him. _Didn't the doctor say it would? Shit, what did she say?_

Sara shivered, and then he saw it. The delicate crimson trail running down the inside of her calf from under the towel. "Uh…it's okay…the doctor said that might happen…we've just got to, to, uh, wash you down and dress it alright?" Sara nodded, the tears slowing on her cheeks now. He ran the bath to a shallow level so he could use the shower head and picked up a sponge. "Should I…I mean do you want me to leave…or…"

"No." Sara's voice was frantic, and still scared. "Please don't leave. Please…"

Grissom nodded. "It's okay, I won't. Just if you're uncomfortable, tell me, right?"

Sara nodded and he slowly pulled the towel off her body and threw it into the laundry basket, now pink from the watery blood soaking into it. She averted her eyes as he saw the first true extent of her injuries. There was a lattice of bruises, some finger shaped contusions on her breasts, spreading all the way down to between her thighs. The black stitches pulled the skin on her hip together roughly, and he resisted the urge to run his fingertips across the raised scar, wishing he could make all the pain go away. There would be a scar there, he knew. How would she live with a reminder like that, always there? How would she explain it to future lovers? _No, she won't have any, _the self-indulgent side of him told himself. Surges of rage coursed along his veins at the sight of what that monster had done to her body, a temple at which he had dreamed of worshipping. What right had that bastard to scar her in such a way, not only physically…but emotionally?

But the rage was swallowed, as he gathered strength from god knows where and helped her back into the tub. _Even with the bruises, she's beautiful, _Gil noted. Gently he began to wash her back, taking great care with something so fragile as her body. Gradually he did her back and her shoulders, then her upper arms, but hesitated on her chest - Sara saw his hesitation and reached for the sponge, and began to scrub her front rigorously, so hard the skin became raw, an angry red. "Sara, no…" Grissom reached for her hand to take away the sponge but she withdrew the hand and kept on scrubbing. He now knew why she had started to bleed before.

"_It won't get off me._" Sara's teeth were gritted as she ground out the short sentence.

"Sara…it's okay…just don't-"

"No! I need to get him off of me..." Her voice was pleading, her mission clear. But he would not let her scrub her skin raw, ritualistic or not. Grissom grabbed for her hand and retrieved the sponge, and her hand reached up to snatch it, but he had it. Sara cried. "No, no, no…you don't understand…"

"I do. I know you feel like you can't be rid of the memory until you clean yourself of it." He said, his voice compassionate much like he dealt when he showed victims and murderers that he knew, at least in reason, why they did what they did and why they felt like they felt. "But it doesn't work like that. You and I have worked with enough people who have been through this to understand it takes a lot of time…" He began to wash her front, softly, carefully. "…And a lot of love."

Sara's cries quieted and she looked up at him on his last said line, wondering what he had meant. Grissom finished washing her and sprayed her over lightly with the shower head, the grime and sweat cleaned off her body leaving just white and bruised skin. "He made me ugly. That will never change."

"No, he didn't. No man could ever change how beautiful you are."

* * *

FINALLY! lol sorry for the huge delay my computer has been uber-obstreperous this last week. The french exam is over (yay!) but now the big exams are looming...(eek!). An ulter-huge thank you to the lovely people who have reviewed, you are all truly awesome, I will thank you next chapter but right now it's midnight and I still have work to do. Argh.

Hope you all like this chapter...it's a bit uninspired, I'm sorry if it's a bit flat. I probably should have finished at least three chapters before posting it, but it's up here now and so I can't give up unless you guys tell me to or not! it's all up to you! love, hugs and funkadelic jellyfish - keep writing! - Mochaccino Girl. xx


	4. Tainted love

"_No man can ever change how beautiful you are."_

It suddenly occurred to Gil Grissom what he had just said, and he wished he could take it back – he knew as soon as it had exited his mouth that it was definitely not the right thing to say. Feebly he began to try and recover lost ground.

"I-I mean, figuritively, I didn't mean-" He sputtered, dropping the sponge and sitting back on his heels, giving Sara some space. She didn't know how to react.

_The Old Sara would be flattered, _The thought crossed her mind. _But you aren't the Old Sara any more, are you? _Confusion sunk in almost immediately after he had said it. And then more foreign emotions…guilt, even fear. What she was afraid of exactly, she couldn't tell. But she felt dirty. A man was telling her she was beautiful, and that was why Adam Trent had raped her, because of what men felt towards her. She no longer enjoyed their attentions. She hated whatthey had caused.

Fighting a sudden urge to curl up and be fully clothed again, away from eyes that could leer and enjoy the sight of her such as Adam Trent had, she lowered her eyes and folded her arms over her front, and quietly requested that Gil would leave her alone for a bit. Her tone wasn't angry, only crestfallen.

"Are you going to be okay?" He asked, gently, drying his hands on a towel. "Are you still bleeding?"

Sara shook her head and then asked again, "Please, just…go."

Grissom eventually left, lost and confused himself, but before he did, said, "I'm sorry."

He didn't know what for.

* * *

Sara sat, still, hugging her knees in the now cooling bath water after Grissom had left, trying to comprehend what she felt and why. But it was too overwhelming and so half the time she spent blocking out the feelings instead of analysing them and logically putting them away. Old coping mechanisms went out the window as they became obselete and unable to handle the newer, heavier loads of emotion that had arrived with what had happened.

_I won't let this rule over me._ She finally came to the conclusion, as she shivered in the cold bath water. _I'm going to go out there and at least make it out that I can deal with this._

Sara stood and picked up the already soiled bath towel, drying herself and quickly dressing again in the clothes she had worn before. She towel dried her hair and cleaned up the bathroom a bit, taking care not to look in the mirror, knowing that seeing the scars and the bruises would not help her resolve to sweep it all under the rug at least for now.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Gil jumped from where he was seated on the sofa, waiting. He went to her quickly but then hung back a little, opening his mouth to speak yet somehow not mustering the words. Sara became a little embarrassed under his worried gaze and focussed on the floor, her mouth turned in a small sheepish grin with her arms folded over her chest. "It's okay, freakout over." Her voice trembled a little but sounded more Sara-like. Grissom relaxed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Hey, woah, no apologies. Sorry I freaked. Doesn't matter now." Sara forced a smile and then sniffed the air, desperate for a subject change. "Huh, what happened to that coffee? God I'm starved."

* * *

While Sara tried to convince him she was fine, her subconcious was telling Grissom otherwise. Too many nights he would wake up to the sound of her crying out for somebody, anybody to save her from the man haunting her nightmares. On those nights, which were frequent, he would fight his own murderous rage and muster strength from somewhere to comfort her, though there was little he could do except wake her and sit by her until she fell into a less troubled sleep. One particular incident would stay branded in his memories forever.

This time he had woken not to the bone-chilling scream, but to her mumbling incoherently beforehand. The mumbling was urgent and pained. Grissom's eyes snapped open and he had sat up immediately, padding out of his own bedroom to the guest bedroom where Sara stayed. The door was ajar and so he pushed it open gently to admit himself where he crept over to her bed and knelt beside it. Whatever she was saying was hard to make out, but he could see the sweat on her clammy forehead and the sheets stuck to her as she writhed underneath them.

"Sara?" He whispered. "Wake up, Sar-"

He was interrupted by the most blood-curdling cry he had ever heard in his life. Grissom fell backwards as Sara arched up on the bed and cried out, thrashing at an unseen attacker, and the pain in her exclamation bore down on him. Dazed for only a few seconds, he leapt up and placed his hands on her shoulders, just as he had in the hospital, forcing her to lay back on the bed in prevention of hurting herself.

"Sara!" He shouted. Sara's tear flooded eyes opened and he could see how scared she was. "Sara…" Gil ignored the fact that he knew Sara hated being touched, and as she sat up he opened his arms and she fell against him, exhausted, confused, and afraid. Sara cried and her body convulsed with the sobs as her pain took over her body and she fell powerless to it.

"Hey…you're alright…it wasn't real." Grissom tried to comfort, once Sara had calmed a little.

"It felt real." She murmured.

"Nightmares usually do. The brain switches from con-"

"I…I could feel…I could feel him in…in me." Sara blurted out, suddenly. Science could not be her comfort right now. He sighed, numbing himself and trying to deflect all the pain threatening to attack his heart. He couldn't afford to break when he had to be the stronger of them both.

"Okay." Was all he managed. He took another deep, shuddering breath and held onto her a little stronger, making Sara know he was still there. "Okay."

When she quieted, which seemed like a long time after, she still found comfort laying against his shoulder. She had not let him touch her since the incident in the bath, for reasons even she couldn't attain for the logical part of her knew he would never do anything to harm her. Now, however, she found she craved the feeling of somebody being there, physically, and not hurting her. A thought occurred to her, but it took several minutes for Sara to gather the courage to share it.

"Could you…do you think you…." She began, but faltered, still trembling from crying so much.

"What is it?" He encouraged, gently. "Something wrong?"

"No…" Sara shifted against him and then sat up and away, and scratched her upper arm absent mindedly. "I was just wondering… I mean… just a thought…" She made a wide gesture. "I don't sleep too well by myself, I guess you can tell…I mean…is…is it okay if you, uh….if you could stay-" Sara lowered her eyes and avoided his gaze.

Grissom took off his glasses and considered it. "You don't have to ask. Sure, if it helps." He stood up and she visibly relaxed, and turned to go back to his room. He changed to a t-shirt and boxers and when he returned, Sara was sitting up in bed. "You sure you're okay with this? Not breaching some sort of….I dunno….supervisor protocol?" She asked. She felt stupid.

"No. As long as you're okay." He replied simply. Of course, secretly, he'd been waiting years for her to ask, even just to let him be of comfort to her. Now was his chance.

He slipped into bed and turned off the lights, and then curled up at the edge of the bed, to minimise physical contact. He was here, that was all she needed….wasn't it? Confusion rattled his brains, and as she drifted off to sleep, he lay wide awake, eyes open in the blurry darkness. She started whimpering not long after she'd fallen asleep, and he froze. Should he wake her up? At long last he turned over on his side, and, gingerly, reached for her shoulder. Gently he wrapped his arm around her and she sank into him, breathing deeply but still whimpering slightly.

"No, no please…don't…" The words were barely decipherable but they were there. He stroked her arm gently and tried to comfort her even in her subconcious. "Shh…it's alright. He can't get you here."

For the next few nights he stayed with her, and the nightmares seemed to go away.

* * *

Over the next week Gil felt ready to return to work, even though he knew he would spend half the time worrying about Sara, he knew it was important for her to have her own dependance and to see that her suffering had not too greatly impacted the lives of her friends. Of course it had devastated them all but he knew they couldn't let her know that, for naturally, being Sara, she would become guilt-ridden at the thought.

When he had discussed it with her over pizza, she had urged him to do so anyway, convincing him that she was fine. She even well-naturedly complained about her compulsory paid leave, adding that she missed the lab.

"Just call me on my cell if you need _anything, _okay?" Grissom pep talked before walking out of his condo.

"Okay, okay, I'll be _fine._" Sara assured him again, a little irritated by his neurotic worry over her. "Just go. And say hi to Cath, Rick, Nick and Greg, okay?"

"Yeah, I will." Gil turned to go, paused, and then carried on out the door, convincing himself everything would be alright.

* * *

Sara felt a weight lift from her as Grissom left his condo. Since the night in the mental hospital, the impending hospital visit, and her return to his home he had done nothing but watch over her like a hawk. Sometimes, granted, it was comforting. But lately it had become opressive as she had been forced to act as if everything was fine when it was about as far from fine as possible.

Two hours passed and dark settled in, and Sara was alone with her thoughts once again. The windows were backdropped with black, throwing the reflection of herself back at her, and she sat staring at it for a while. She found herself drawn to the full-length mirror in the bathroom, where for the first time since the rape, she scrutinized her image. The bruises were deep but some were yellowing, and the swelling was down leaving only the stain of bruising on her cheekbones. The cuts had scabbed but were still visible. Sara gazed at her face in disgust. _No man could want you now,_ she thought to herself. _You're damaged goods. You're tainted. _The hurt at this realisation built up so that Sara could not look at herself anymore.

And thenit occurred to her, an idea spontaneous and instantaneous in its appearance. It was pure impulse, but itwas something that she needed to do.

* * *

The bar was crowded, being a Friday night. She stepped out of the yellow cab onto the curb outside, and could hear the steady music drifting out of the one open door at the front where a dark suited bouncer stood. Sara tipped the driver. "Thanks." She waved him off and then headed towards the door of the bar, feeling almost naked in the skirt and light top she wore. These clothes she had once loved to wear felt wrong on her body. She hoped the concealer was doing the trick on the bruises.

Feeling a wave of nauseating anxiety, Sara plunged into the crowd and pushed to the bar where she ordered a bacardi and coke. She was hyper alert. _Why on earth am I doing this? _she wondered. But she had something to prove, and steeling herself to achieve her objective, she sat up at at the bar and took a hit of the drink passed across the polished wood towards her. The aftertaste hit her and she savoured the molten liquid trickling down her throat. _Even if I don't get what I want, I can at least get trashed. _Sara lost track of time and waited.

"You lost?"

The male voice made her flinch, and Sara gathered herself quickly before turning to the voice that seemed to stand out stark above the white noise of chatter and ambient music, yet was actually the same volume, more or less.

"Huh?" Sara replied.

"You don't look like you want to be here." The man had rough stubble and looked like a regular at the Tangiers. Sara quickly assessed that he was no choir-boy but he was neither of the wife-beating variety. A perfect variable.

"Well…now I do…" She played along, smiling maybe a little suggestivelyat him. Before, toying with men's desires had been a game…but now it felt alien and it felt frightening to her, as Sara knew full well the extent of what a man's desires could cause. He offered his hand.

"Trey Jeffers. And you are…?"

"Sara. Just Sara."

"_Just_ Sara, huh? Well, Just Sara, how about I get you another Bacardi and Coke?"

Sara almost protested, as it would now be her third, and she was already feeling a bit tipsy. The rational, sensible side of her brain told her to hold back, but a reckless abandon rose in her and she found herself taking up the offer of a complete stranger.

And so it went.

* * *

Yay! FINALLY! Fourth chapter. Sorry...I knowisn't quite up to scratch. There may be a few holes. I know EXACTLY where I want this to go but I'm really bad at writing out the full background to why what happens, happens...if that makes sense...

Sorry I've been so s.l.o.w. at updating! GCSEs are finally over, I just came back from a holiday in Turkey and Greece, but now summer has begun which means more writing and less procrastinating (I think so, anyway). Please read and review, this was a particularly nasty chapter to write so I need to know whether it isreadableor not. Thanks to all you lovely people who have reviewed so far, I would name names but it's kind of late and I need to go to bed and there are just so many cool people who have! Don't worry I won't leave you on that mini cliffhanger of "what-she-gonna-do-next" (is it predictable? probably) for too long.

Keep writing, happy reading - xxxxxxxxxxxxx


	5. Sleep easy

Grissom checked his watch. It was 11:45 – he considered ringing home for the umpteenth time since arriving at work. Catherine, who was sitting with him in the garage as they looked over a suspect's car, noticed his hesitation to lift a fingerprint they had found on the dashboard. She watched as he sat back in the seat, and then she leant down in the driver's window to meet eye to eye with him.

"You're worrying." Catherine stated.

Grissom raised his eyebrows in a 'well, yeah' expression. He took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose, like he did whenever he was worried or trying to make a decision. Catherine's heart ached for her friend and colleague, - he would never admit it but everyone could see the strain taking its toll the moment he had walked into the lab earlier that night.

"Gil…" Catherine said compassionately, at the same time shifting onto her knees so that her legs wouldn't cramp up, "She's going to be alright, you know that, right? She's Sara Sidle. Miss 'Indestructible'."

"I wish I could believe that."  
Catherine sighed. "Well, what ya going to do? Watch over her forever? She needs help but she also needs space to figure this out on her own."

Grissom realised that Catherine was right, and after a pause proceeded to lift the fingerprint and push any worries to the back of his mind.

* * *

By 1:00am Sara was almost legless, and so Trey decided to take her back to his apartment. There was no question to his intentions, or hers for that matter – they both knew what was inevitably going to happen.

Fumbling like a virgin on prom night, Sara removed Trey's shirt as he, slightly more expertly, removed her of all clothing. The sex was quick, emotionless, and though without malice it was violent. She lay still as he thrust into her and shut her eyes tight, willing to believe that this was what she wanted. She wasn't the victim this time. She needn't be frightened.

Trey came loudly - he yelled out some blasphemous saying, snorting and panting like a dog. He collapsed onto her, almost immediately falling asleep from being spent and the alcohol. While he snored soundly, Sara wept for feeling foolish, used and stupid. Along with that, she was now in pain. She now saw the flaws in her plan. Whilst she had learnt again that a man would want to fuck her, there had been no love. There had been no saviour in that night.

Sara slid out of Trey's bed, slightly disorientated, still feeling the heavy cloud of alcohol on her senses. It was raining heavily outside – Las Vegas rain. She dressed quickly and cared little for how dishevelled she looked.

The clock in Trey's living room said it was 3:13am, so at least she could return to Grissom's, with enough time to clean up and go to bed before he arrived home. He didn't need to know.

The world spun as she walked down the numbered streets, sticking to the light of the streetlamps, the rain hammering down on her. By the time she had reached Grissom's condo she was soaked to the skin and had her thoughts firmly concentrated on getting into bed wrapped up warm.

* * *

Grissom leapt up from the sofa on the sound of a key turning in the lock to his home. The door opened admitting a dishevelled and soaked Sara, who froze on the sight of him standing there.

"Sa- What happened?" His voice was not gentle, but instead demanding and stern. Sara looked totally and utterly shocked.

"Griss-I'm sorry-I didn't expect –"

"Didn't expect what? That I'd be home so soon? If you'd been _at _home, or even if you'd _told _me _where _you were going, I wouldn't be!" Sara visibly shrunk back as he raised his voice, yelling at her. His face was strained and there were dark circles under his eyes. She could see now the stress that had been effecting him. "Where the _hell _did you go?" Sara didn't answer, frozen at his outburst. He stepped forward and seized her by the upper arms, and shook her. "_What happened,_ Sara?"

By now Sara was trembling, and Gil felt it. He instantly let go of her arms and stood backwards. "I'm sorry-" He began, but Sara didn't look at him and instead walked to the guest bedroom, shutting the door behind her. He heard the familiar sounds of grief through the wood of the door and mentally kicked himself for losing control – he'd just been out of his mind with worry when he'd called several times with no answer.

He knew Sara needed space and so settled himself on the sofa with some tea, ready for another long night.

* * *

When the guest room fell silent, Grissom made another tea, one for him and one for Sara. He ventured in with the hope of asking her again, now that she was calmed down, what _had _happened that night.

On entering the room, however, he saw that she had curled up in the corner of her bed against the wall, in a rather uncomfortable position – yet somehow she seemed to be sleeping soundly. Leaning over her, he saw with an ache in his chest that her face was streaked with tears. Her hair and clothes were still soaked from the rain.

He threw a blanket over her and left the cup oftea on her bedside table, but as he turned to leave, her sleeping form stirred. "Mmph?"

Gil turned and met her sleepy gaze. "Hey."

Sara sat up and took the coffee, giving him space to initialise the converstation.

"Look…I'm sorry for going off at you before. I-you just worried me, that's all. I called here several times and you didn't answer at all. I thought you were in the bath at first but when a couple of hours passed I thought maybe…maybe-" But he couldn't bring himself to say it. Instead, he changed tack. "Where did you go?"  
After a pause, at which Sara gazed into her mug contemplating her answer, she replied, "Out."

"Out where?"

"It doesn't matter." Sara's reply was too quick. He noticed that her hands were shaking as she placed the cup back on the bedside table.

"Please tell me what happened." Grissom asked her. "You know you can trust me not to-"

"Think less of me? You will."

"Won't."

Sara bit her lip and paused, fidgeting and concentrating on the threading of the comforter on her bed. There was a moment of silence where Gil let her gather herself.

"I went out to sleep with a random guy." She blurted, all too suddenly. "I needed to prove to myself that…that-" Here her voice halted and she angrily wiped at the tears on her cheekbones. "That a man could still love me. But I didn't. All that I proved was that men can have sex with me – it's not a question of 'love'." She looked up to a corner in the ceiling and tried in vain to blink away her tears.

Grissom found himself unable to speak and therefore didn't try.

"I-I didn't mean to worry you. I did it on impulse, I know it was stupid, I just needed to-" Sara flooded, ashamed of herself. Gil put his palms up to stop her.

"Stop. I know. I just…I don't know what to say that could help you." He admitted, helplessly. "I don't know what to do, Sara."

This didn't help any, of course. Sara turned her face away to try and hide it but he could see her body tremble as she cried. When she spoke, her voice was thick with despair. "Please don't give up on me."

Grissom moved from where he had been seated on a chair next to her bed, to sit beside her. "No, no I didn't mean that. I will never give up on you." He sighed, reaching for her hand again has he had once done when she had told him about her parents. "I want to help you so bad but I don't know how. I'm….I'm not experienced with this. I'm hardly experienced with other people, let alone other people's problems!" Gil tried, a watery grin on his lips. She sighed, and leant against him, emotionally and physically tired. Sara had soon enough fallen asleep against his shoulder, the steady rhythm of his heart beating and his breathing as her lullaby.

* * *

Okay I know it's a short chapter. Thanks to you people who reviewed...if any body has any ideas where this should go please e-mail me! And of course please please PLEASE review because it's great to have feedback. I know it's very out of character, I have never been a very good fanfiction writer. Plus it's kind of difficult to approach such a raw subject with two of the most enigmatic characters on CSI! But I'm trying to make it work!

As I said please give feedback so I know how to shape the last few chapters up, being a bit of a perfectionist, me, I would love to proverbially shave off the rough edges on this piece so that more people can enjoy it just as I have been lucky enough to enjoy a lot of amazing fan fiction on here! That reminds me - check out CSINut214's stuff, (I think that's his/her name!) it's flaming amazing, even if you're not into GSR most of the stories are a good chuckle. Very clever andwitty writing there.

Anyhow I must be off to jobhunt for the summer- ciao, keep writing and happy reading! from Mochaccino Girl xx


	6. Punching walls

"Gil."

Grissom kept filing the paperwork, oblivious to Warrick Brown, standing in the doorway of his office. His mind was elsewhere.

"Grissom."

On no response, Warrick sighed and walked forwards, putting his hand on the papers Grissom had been apparently so fervently concentration on to grab his attention. Though Warrick knew somehow that he hadn't been concentrating on the paperwork. "_Gil."_

"Oh, Warrick."

"Hey." Warrick sat down without invitation. "You okay?" He had to refrain from adding 'buddy' to the end of his question. He knew right now his old supervisor would probably take it as a patronising act of endearment, and clam up. Not to say he wouldn't clam up anyway.

"Yes. Is there any specific reason as to why you're here?" Gil's voice was exhausted and held no gentleness to it. Warrick sat back a little, taken aback at how clipped Grissom had been towards him.

"I just wondered-"

"Well, I've made it clear that I'm absolutely fine, so you don't need to worry. I'm sure you have more important things to do – last I heard you were on a DB at an industrial Warehouse? Have you closed that case, yet?"

"No." He didn't bother to hide his annoyance.

Grissom gave him a look that could have plainly said, 'Well why are you in my office, then?'. Warrick raised his palms defensively.

"Fine, fine I'm gone." And he left mumbling something under his breath. Gil returned to shuffling papers mindlessly.

* * *

Sara woke up alone, stretched out and tangled in the sheets, the Las Vegas orange sun spilling into her room like so much flourescent ink. She paused, listening for any sounds of company in the house. Upon none, she realised Grissom must have returned to work for another shift to make up for leaving so early. _And that was because of me. _She made a concious decision that she would not do anything stupid from then on in. Sara knew she was having a hard time coming to terms with it, but she could also see the pain in his gaze whenever he watched her struggle, imprinted on his worn and now seemingly older features. God, he looked so exhausted all the time. 

She'd always figured Grissom as an unfeeling man. That was because he seemed impervious to any emotion – he always seemed to detach himself at work. Sara thought about it. She'd probably seen more emotion on that face in the last week than the whole of the four years she'd been in Vegas.

Sara dressed in black jeans and a longsleeve tee, and walked through to the kitchen, where more signs of the stresses of Gil Grissom were evident. On the counter there were spilled coffee granules and a half empty packed. The mug was used but unwashed in the sink. Grissom was almost obsessive-compulsive about tidyness, albeit a rather cluttered one…he'd always kept the kitchen clean.

Sighing, Sara cleaned up and decided that right now the person that needed help most, was the person who had been helping her.

* * *

"So what've we got?" Nick started, opening the case file. Him, Warrick, Catherine and Grissom were seated in the breakroom, a popular review spot for cases. Gil was engrossed in his own report, though Catherine suspected it wasn't the report he was interested in. He'd been distracted all morning. 

She decided to play along anyway. "Okay, so our vic's girlfriend says they left the house at 5:00pm to go to the movie. Stopped off for dinner at Bosco Verde's on East Sahara Avenue. She says he said he had to stop off on Sandhill Road and was acting shifty about it. They drive up to a street corner, vic gets out, walks up to some random guys and there's an argument. Guy shoots him. Girlfriend just drives off without calling 911? It doesn't make sense."

"She might've been scared, needed to get out of there. Where did she say she went again?" Warrick added, his elbows on the desk.

"I don't know. Gil, you were in the interrogation. Didn't she say she drove to Sloan? Bit far for a quick getaway, don't you think?" Catherine said, eyeing her friend across the table. He hadn't responded. She tried a different tack. "Maybe she drove to…Henderson. Or Newport. Or Baghdad. Or….Mars?"

Nick and Warrick didn't laugh, where they might've done in any other circumstance. Their gaze shifted to Grissom, who was shaking ever so slightly.

"Uh, Cath…Warrick and I had some DNA results from Mia to follow up on. Rick, why don't we go get those?"

"Yeah, yeah good idea." Warrick and Nick left the table so that Catherine and Grissom could be alone, glancing at their previous supervisor with worried looks. Once they had left, Catherine got up and walked around the table to sit beside him.

"Griss?" She asked, softly. "What's up?"

The question was stupid and futile. She didn't need to know what was 'up'. But Catherine knew she had to keep it as normal as possible.

The answer came suddenly and without warning. As if shocked with a jolt of electricity, Gil came to life and movement, bringing his fist up and bringing it down on the table with a sickening crack. The thick layer of glass was left with a spiderweb of cracks around his fist. He did it again and the table top shattered. Coffee cups and papers fell to the floor. People in the neighbouring labs looked up and stared.

"_Adam Trent, THAT's what's 'Up'!_" He yelled in rage. Catherine had leapt back from the now destroyed table, watched as her friend stood and swept a whole bookcase of Entemology textbooks to the floor. He punched the wall, leaving an imprint of his fist - the impact was loud and sounded painful. "He took her from me and abused her body, and he doesn't care! Where is he now, huh? He's laughing at us! He got away with something worse than murder! He killed her, Cath! He-he-" Gil had switched alarmingly fast from red faced and rage-filled to defeated. He backed against the wall, slumped, and slid down it. "He took my Sara…" With one hand over his eyes, his body shook, and Catherine knew he was crying. There was something heart-breaking and devastating about seeing a grown male friend of hers, crying.

"What the hell are you people looking at?" She yelled at the lab techs, who promptly returned to work. She crouched down in front of Grissom, then shifted to her knees.

"Oh, Gil." Her voice was steeped in compassion as she looked away, admittedly a little uncomfortable.

"I was there, Catherine. I-I saw her. I looked her in eye while he was, was…" He trailed off, unable to word it. "There was nothing there. _Nothing._ He took her away from me and destroyed her." His voice broke again and he tried desperately to force his breathing to slow, steadying. Gil shook his head, eyes shut tight, as if in physical pain himself.

"He didn't destroy her, Griss, nobody can do that. Hurt her, yes." Catherine sighed and sat down on the floor next to her friend, putting an arm around him. _Shit, he's really broken up, _She thought, leaning against him, offering him comfort. "Sara's a strong girl, she's come through a hell of a lot of other crap. She just needs a bit of help."

For a minute Grissom looked as though he were going to argue, but he quelled the pessimist in him and tried to believe Catherine. He wanted to believe her, he really did.

"I don't think I _can _help." He admitted, resigned.

"You are," She told him. "You're there for her - for once - and that's something."

Gil let out a deep, shuddering sigh and felt a sudden unexpected fatigue wash over him. His fist was bleeding profusely and his other arm was numb, and he worried that in his rage he had broken it. "Now, let's get those paws cleaned up, okay?" Catherine helped him up amidst the debris, and walked him, dazed, across the break room and down the corridor. She glared at any distracted lab tech as she lead him into her office and sat him down in a chair, and then began rummaging for her first aid kit.

"Knuckle out, Griss, I gotta clean it up." Catherine ordered Grissom, and he reluctantly obeyed.

"You don't need to-" He started, wincing as she dabbed TCP on the deep glass grazes on his fist.

"Who else will?" She retorted, good-naturedly, the question more rhetorical than anything. "You? Just let me do this and then I'm driving you home. You're in no fit state to even stack test-tubes, let alone shove papers or solve cases. So sit tight and shut up, and co-operate for once." Catherine softened the gibe with a knowing grin. Gil sighed, and co-operated.

"So how is Sara?"

He shook his head, half shrugging. "I honestly don't know."

"I'll take that as a 'not good' then."

Grissom shot her a look. "No, I suppose she's not that good."

"Did you suggest the counsellour the hospital referred you to?"

"She doesn't need a shrink, Cath."

"But she needs somebody to punch walls for her?" Catherine joked, but on seeing his expression regretted saying it. "Okay, lame joke. Everybody loses control sometimes. Even you, bugman."

"I shouldn't have. What kind of person am I?" He scolded himself, with contempt for his loss of control and indulging in his emotions like he had.

"A human one, that's what."

Finding no reply, Gil sat quiet while Catherine finished fixing up his hands, and soon they were done. He admired her handiwork, the splint keeping his wrist from shifting position, saving him some pain. It still throbbed, though.

"Right, go get whatever you need and meet me out in the car park, I'll be a few minutes."

Griss got up and left, but turned at the door. "Thanks, Cath." He said, maybe a little sheepishly.

"It's nothing. Lindsey punches walls all the time." She grinned, and then shooed him out of her office.

* * *

Again, a pretty short chapter. I'm getting close to the GSR bit though! lol Sorry for the wait! Thanks to all you kick ass people who have reviewed. Thanks ElisaCollette, I'll take your advice on the Anon Review thing! Thanks to Mxyxplyx for the idea for the chapter content, to me, half of writing is in the idea, so a big round of applause for her! (or him? lol sorry if I've offended you mate you haven't been gender specific) Either way, big thank you to **brainfear, Adenara Yatman, ElisaCollette, buffygirl52789, TrishG, Mxyxplyx (of course!), Almeida's-Angel24, SMKLegacy, drakien, alias101, mrs.tingles, Miss Jazz (love your story Faithful Light by the way, every GSR shipper must read!), Elialys, UnspokenLoves, Juwist, and Evita aka Oracle**. You guys rock! (And of course those who reviewed before) Again if any people want to see anything specific happen in this fic do tell me! And please review!

Keep writing, happy reading, Love from Mochaccino Girl xxxx


	7. Traffic lights and toothbrushes

Sara answered the door in the afternoon to find Grissom standing on the doorstep with both hands in bandages, one blood stained and the other stretching over his entire forearm.

"Shit, Griss, what happened?" She gaped, letting him inside. He walked straight past without answering her. Catherine was hanging back a bit, outside her car, and Sara's gaze turned to her, questioningly. "Cath?"

"He's not feeling too good right now, Sara. Look after him okay?"

Confused, Sara nodded. "Do you want to come in?"

"Oh, no thanks. I should get back to work. I might drop in later and check up on him," She pointed down the hall to where Gil had disappeared.

"Okay. See you, then."

Once Sara had closed the door to Catherine pulling out of the driveway, she followed Grissom to his bedroom. She knocked twice, but there was no answer. When she opened the door he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, although a little tenderly because of the bandages. Sara walked lightly over to the bed and sat down next to him, wanting so much to touch him, simply by putting a hand on his shoulder or leaning against him. She wanted to let him know she was there but she had never initiated such intimate gesture with him and was unsure of how he would react.

Eventually Grissom broke the silence. "I screwed up."

"What? Oh-no, no you didn't. I'm sure you didn't. What do you mean you screwed up?"

"I lost control where I should have kept my head. And in doing so, have jeopardised the respect of our colleagues at the lab and their faith in my ability to work right now." He sighed, simply listing the facts. His voice was steeped in disappointment at himself. "Ecklie will have a field day."  
Sara had to smile a little wryly at his comment, but sobered upon his weary expression. "I know we have reason to dislike him, but he isn't stone cold. He'll understand."

Gil didn't answer to that, merely dropped his chin again, staring at his shoes.

"I can't live with it, Sara."

"Live with what?" She froze, afraid of what he might say next. "Me?" Sara added, in a small voice. Grissom paused, analysing his own thoughts, and she dreaded her fear might actually become reality. Whether she liked to admit it or not, she had adapted to needing somebody there. She doubted whether she could bear returning to an empty apartment, alone, with nobody to chase her nightmares and fears away.

"No. I…I can't live with what he did." They didn't need elaboration as to who 'he' was. "What he did to you. I can't bear to see that every day, Sara. I can't stand away and spectate."

Sara was panicking. "So, so what, you're going to kick me out so you don't have to?" Her voice was accusatory and threatened, rife with a hurt sense of betrayal. She was losing control of her emotions, she knew, as tears slipped down her face.

"Y-you think that's okay, is it? Well maybe in your world it is but you can't hold me for weeks and then drop me. You can't just kick me out! I-I feel safe here! I couldn't sleep but with you I don't get raped every night over and over by an imaginary Adam Trent! You, you – I _trust _you Grissom, but y-you can't expect me to if you keep doing this to me! What, are you suddenly afraid that you're breaking protocols again? Bit late for that isn't it? Why did you take me in? I feel safe with you – I don't care if I can never have anything more than just to be here I don't care I just- I can't-I can't-" But Sara's desperate cries were stopped abruptly by his mouth meeting hers. After a couple of long seconds the realisation hit her that he was kissing her, and she closed her eyes and ignored all the imaginary neon signs that were flashing around her telling her to pull back. She sank into it, and they both tasted each other for the first time, but their exploration was as shy as each personality and their kiss had no lust to it. Grissom's hand at some point cupped the side of Sara's cheek, his thumb brushing against the small spot just behind her earlobe and it sent shivers down between her shoulderblades. And all the while through her mind, _Gil Grissom is kissing me, Gil Grissom is kissing me…_

When they resurfaced Gil looked in her eyes with a slighly bemused expression, and Sara in his with a bewildered one.

"What…?"

"It was the only thing I could think of that would successfully quiet you." He grinned a little sheepishly at her slightly flushed expression, and realised they were both breathing a little shallowly.

"That better have meant more than a shut up." Sara warned, a little amused herself butperplexed all the same.

"I'm not kicking you out." Grissom sobered a little, his heart felt like it were ping ponging around his chest. He had to quell the urge to whoop as his mind sang out triumphantly, a kind of victory cry, _You kissed her! You kissed her! You kissed her!. _Then his previous trail of thought returned, after being swiped clean from his mind, and his mood fell a little. "I-I can't watch you go through this alone. If I'm going to do anything I want to…I want to be there with you."

Sara nodded, slowly, understanding what he had just proposed. Apprehensive of what that might mean in every aspect of her life, she pushed the worries to the back of her head and shot him a watery, shaky grin. "Kiss me again and then I'll decide."

And he did so, happily.

* * *

Later that afternoon they had fallen asleep on his bed, fully clothed and just content for that moment just to lie together in comfort. Grissom slept soundly, snoring quietly, for the first time in days. For then, the rages of Adam Trent couldn't permeate his thoughts. Happiness and contentment had rendered him impervious to hate just then. He decided he would face it later, and let sleep consume his tired body. 

Sara sighed, a deep, shuddering breath. It was a shaky start to a no doubt shaky relationship, she knew. Neither she nor Gil would ever win nobel prizes for social ability. Her with her past, shadowing every move she made, and him with his inadequacy around others. And then there was the more recent events. She trusted Grissom wholeheartedly and felt as if she were moving on, but it wasn't her. He obviously had some issues to get over, and she knew she could be the only person that could help him through them. It felt weird, thinking of them helping each other through what they would have previously gone through alone. _Why didn't we do this before? _Sara asked herself over and over, secretly knowing an irrational answer but not understanding it in full. She took a deep breath, soaking up his uncategorisably Grissom-like smell, and sank back into his embrace falling into a comforting sleep.

* * *

"Hey, Sar." Nick smiled warmly at his friend, trying to quell any urge to hug her or let any compassion seep into his voice. They'd all pretty much kept their distance after the rape, burying themselves in work and occassionally kicking proverbial walls together over the monster that had ruined their colleague. Nick and Warrick had spoken of their joint almost shame at what their gender could do, had calmed each other in moments of blinding rage, and assure each other that she would eventually be okay. Unsure of what they could do to help, they did what they knew to be safe – and gave her space and time. Grissom was there for her, they reasoned. And Catherine was there for Grissom. 

He'd missed her, though. Her wry voice and slight sarcasm, her sense of humour. What she put into her job.

"Hey," She replied, a little reserved, nervous to be back at work after all that had happened. The last time she'd walked into the lab had been the same night that…_I don't need to think about that now._

"Hey Girl," Warrick joined them, coffee cup in one hand, the other reaching out to give Sara a hug. "How you been?"

"I've been better, thanks." Sara shrugged.

"I bet." Warrick gave her a compassionate look and acquiesced.

Catherine and Grissom arrived at the same time, and Sara knew they'd been pep-talking. She shook the idea that that she wasn't ready for work, and sat down at the new break room table with the others.

"Right, guys, we got some easy cases tonight so let's get them over with. Nick, Rick, you two have a robbery at a convenience store just off Fremont. Greg, you're with Catherine, you two are at a suicide case in Henderson. Guy shot himself, apparently. Sara-" Grissom turned to look at her after the others. "You're with me, heist at the Oval. Nothing high profile."

The other four left and Sara shot Grissom a look. "Don't go easy on me, just cause I was off for a while."

"I'm not." He replied, walking round the table to stand next to her. "Let's go."

* * *

After shift they were sitting in Grissom's Yukon at traffic lights, lost in their own thoughts, when Sara spoke up. 

"Can you take me home?" She asked, a little tentatively.

For a moment Griss was puzzled. "That's where we're going, right?"

"No, I mean, my _home_."

"Okay." He took a left and quickly formulated a route to Sara's apartment from their current location. Once he was on the way, he asked her why.

"I miss it. I feel…I feel Sara-esque now, enough that I can handle being in my old life again."

"You sure?"

Sara nodded. It hurt to think that she'd changed any, but she knew she had. The lights of Las Vegas passed the tinted windows, bright and blinding, and she concentrated on them in the silent drive to her apartment. It wasn't long before Gil pulled into the drive of the complex.

"I'm just going to go up and get some stuff, I'll be back soon." She explained, before getting out of the car. She ran up the stairs and lifted the buddha just on her doorstep to get her spare key, and then stepped inside. It was the same as it had been three weeks ago, just with another layer of dust on top. Sara had left the place a little messy, and she walked in and sat down, staring about the room as if normality were facing her once again. She knew she couldn't sweep this under the rug, nor could she forget Griss in her haste for everything to return to as once was. Since that kiss in his bedroom, they had both seen each other in new light, but had timidness towards those feelings anew as if they were some sort of taboo, forbidden. Grissom had laid his hand on the small of her back here, she had reached out on his shoulder there, small, intimate gestures made but otherwise everything had been just as was, only a little closer.

Sara was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice him approach through her open door.

"Penny for your thoughts?" She jumped and turned at his voice.

"God! Griss! I didn't hear you-" Sara caught her breath and looked back to her thousand mile stare at a forensic journal on the coffee table. "Just thinking about, well, stuff." She didn't feel like wording her musings.

"That much I figured." He sat down next to her on the sofa, putting his hand on her knee. "Ready?"

"Well….I kind of felt like staying awhile. Breakfast? I can make frittatas…I've got some beer in the fridge…"

Gil shook his head no. "Thank you, but I had enough at the lab. Why don't I get you something? You look pretty tired."

"I think I'll pass, too. I feel pretty tired." Sara said, yawning on cue. She lay back against Grissom's shoulder and he found himself tracing her forehead, fringe to temple to ear with his fingers. Without precidence, Sara sat back up and planted her lips on his. And in moments they were kissing again, except this time her intentions were clear. Grissom felt a new lease of life and kissed her back, hands spreading to cradle her back. His left hand passed over her bra strap and she broke the kiss, looking into his eyes wildly. "Shall we?"

"Sara…" He almost stopped her but this time he was mercy to his body and her own pleading look. This was what he had to do, he now knew. So he let her lead him into her bedroom and then he was unbuttoning her shirt, both attached at the lips. Devoid of clothing apart from underwear, he pulled her onto the bed where they made out deeply and passionately. Grissom slid his hands down her stomach but stopped just above the lining of her pants, hand flat on her smooth skin. He broke the kiss and looked into her eyes this time, searching for any uncertainty. On finding none, he whispered, "You sure you're ready to…?"

Sara swallowed and nodded, smiling apprehensively. She took a deep breath and then looked into his eyes as he slid her pants off and slid his fingers over her. His touch was light enough to give her shivers and she moaned softly into his mouth, pulling apart to breathe, she closed her eyes and leant her forehead against his. "Griss…" She breathed as he pulled her close to the edge, and then he kissed her again before lowering himself down her neck, planting featherlight kisses on her collarbone to her breast bone, taking off her bra and discarding it. She sucked in a breath through her teeth as his mouth landed on her breast and then down her stomach. His tongue was on her hips and she shuddered. "You okay?" Grissom whispered, and she nodded, laying back, one hand laced in his peppered hair the other grabbing the sheets, gathering them as she clenched her fist. She came close to the edge a few times but each time he teasingly stopped and then he crawled back up the bed and threw the covers over them. Sara slid her hands down his back and removed his boxers.

"God, Sara... I don't have…I don't have my toothbrush."He murmered, stammering.She could tell he was fighting off waves of ecstacy, and she laughed a littleat the statement and its odd timing, and he thought how akin to music it was. "So-" She kissed him again, giddy with a combination of breathlessness and desire. "Use mine."

"I eat meat…"

"I don't care…" Sara hummed, carelessly, smile wide. She was going to make love with Grissom, why on Earth would she let a _toothbrush _stop that?

"God-okay-" He cursed softly as her hand closed around his length. In one quick move he took control of the situation again, hand cupped on her breast, straddling her and sliding himself inside of her. She gasped as he began to move and he caught her lips again, eager to taste her even just once more. Grissom had never felt so happy, he thought. Sara tilted her head back, eyes closed, pushing into the pillows as they both neared their climax. When he came, he whispered her name into her neck, lips pressed against her skin so she could feel his hot breath as he said "Sara…". She let out a deep breath as her body arched and suddenly noticed she had been crying, the tears running from the corners of her eyes down the sides of her cheeks and onto her earlobes. "Griss-" She breathed, and they were both breathing shallowly.

"God…Sara…what's wrong?" She turned her face and wiped the tears away. Grissom pulled out of her and lay one hand on her hips and the other, holding his body up by his elbow, on the side of her cheek.

"Nothing, nothing, I just…" She gave him a watery smile. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," He smiled back, warmly, kissing her again. "God, I love you."

He kissed her on the neck again. "I love you so much." His mouth was on her breastbone and she could feel his voice vibrate through her bones, and nothing thrilled her more.

"I love you, too." She sighed, and they fell asleep, sweat-slicked bodies intertwined. Sara's dreams were filled with deep, blue eyes filled with love just as the sea with water.

* * *

Ahhhhhhhad to happen some time, eh? Where to from here? I'm only the chauffeur in this wild, angst ridden ride! Hope that hasn't made this into some cheap romantic fic. Okay who am I kidding? it was to start with, lol. Hope you liked though; finally got some GSR in there! mutanthorse, (i think that was it) you are so right, Adam's fingernails were bitten down to the tread, soo I'll just pretend it was the scabs :S see I don't think of the details. I need a beta! Anybody GSR-angst-drama-wit hungry enough to beta for me? I do tend to run with themes but I'm trying to expand my horizons. Anyway I hope everyone liked this chapter, I know it took ages (sorry), thanks to all you jolly souls who reviewed (want to be a jolly soul? pleasepush the mauve button, you know you want to...! please don't make me beg! I need to know what I'm doing wrong...and what I'm doing right hehe). Love it or hate it feedback would be lurvely; but with hate mail, please write with a purpose. I can't improve if I don't know what needs improving, eh? Though I know a lot needs to be improved here!

Oh gosh I'm rambling. Got to blaspheme less too. Hence the gosh. Right off to bed before I kill you lovely tolerant people of just plain boredom.

Keep writing and happy readingfrom Mochaccino Girl xxx


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